Godforsaken Island
by lemonhobbit
Summary: What REALLY happend to Jack over those three days with nothing but the himself, the island, and a large stock pile of rum?...


Hey all! This is my first POTC fic. It's gonna be three chapters long when I finish writing it, which will happen when my muse decides to come back and help me! And then I'm gonna kill her for keeping me up until 3 AM to write this thing. Yep. She's gonna pay...Maybe I'll set Jack the Monkey on her...hmm...  
  
But anyway, on with the fic, since that's why you're here in the first place! Enjoy! Oh, and sorry in advance for any spelling errors. No spell check here.  
  
Oh! Almost forgot...  
  
DISCLAIMER: Well, sadly, I do not own Jack Sparrow, or anyone or anything related to POTC. Someone else does, and I will forever envy them.  
  
Chapter 1: Day 1:  
  
Catain Jack Sparrow slogged angrilly through the warm shallows, his worn leather boots filled with sand. He turned back, squinting at the white sun that still hung low in the brightening sky, searching until he spotted the shrinking dark speck in the distance.  
  
The Black Pearl.  
  
It had been his ship no more than an hour ago, no thanks to his damn mutinous crew. He pulled the waterlogged pistol from it's holster at his side and held it up to his face.  
  
One shot.  
  
He squinted again, this time in anger, shaking his gun in the direction of the now non-existent speck of this ship, silently cursing his first mate, vowing to get the revenge he deserved.  
  
That was when he remembered exactly where he was. He turned 'round and took a good, long look. A long, low mound of sand an grass, a few trees, maybe a couple of birds and whatever happend to wash up, all surrounded by an endless expanse of water.   
  
Great. Just great.  
  
Jack, seeing no probable means of escape at the moment, continued to make his way towards the beach.  
  
'Stupid Barbossa,' he thought. 'Stupid Godforsaken island.' He spotted an oyster sitting in the clear water, and in his frustration, he kicked it. "Stupid clam," he said aloud.   
  
As he walked onto dry land he continued his rant, being sure to name each member of his former crew, including the monkey, and cursing them all individually, along with their immediate families and ancestors. on the way, he made sure to include anything on that bloody island that moved, and quite a few things that didn't.  
  
Around midday, his boredom ever growing, he wondered into a relatively shady spot. After much pacing, planning, and throwing various objects into the water, only to have them wash back up again, something inside him finally snapped.   
  
The marooned pirate captain removed his pirate hat, threw it onto the sandy ground, and jumped on it repeatedly, screaming incoherently about nothing in particular. This probably would have led to a complete breakdown, death, or even crying, had the ground not given way beneath him.  
  
Quite a bit of splintered wood and a dust cloud later, Jack found himself standing in a hole full of bottles.  
  
Bottles...filled with rum.  
  
Grabbing as many flasks as he could carry, he climbed from the pit, hat n his mouth, and sat down against a tree. Uncorking a first drink, he took a long swig and said, "You know, I never really wanted that treasure anyway."  
  
By nightfall, he'd lost count of the empty bottles. He somehow managed to make a fire, and then it was all flashes, bit of things that may or may not have actually happened. He talked to himself, sometimes making semi-coherent plans, one in particular involving a couple of sea turtles, or just random one-sided conversations.  
  
And there were dreams. Strange and disjointed, and mostly about women. Dancing women, women swimming in rum.   
  
Beautiful, though.  
  
And then it was dark for a while. Apparently, the fire had gone out, but Jack was to intoxicated to care, and too tired to be able to do anything about it anyway. So he had somemore rum and fell asleep.  
  
So that's chapter one!   
  
Will Jack ever get off that bloody island? If so, how? And will he ever run out of rum? Tune in next time to find out! Unless that damn monkey takes my notebook again!   
  
R&R!!! 


End file.
